


The Staff and the Snake

by Yachtly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fallen Angels, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Rated Mature mostly for Language not Sexy Stuff, Self-Indulgent, Soulmates, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-16 04:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yachtly/pseuds/Yachtly
Summary: Falling wasn’t something any angel intended to do. At least, that’s what Raphael figured, post-fall. Reflecting back on it, it felt like he’d been ripped in half, only bits and pieces of him remaining. And Lucifer was too proud to tell him how he'd felt. All Crowley knew was that he felt dreadful cold until he met that angel who felt warm and almost whole again.





	1. Chapter 1

No angel intended to fall, especially not at the beginning. There was no concept of being anything other than angelic, ethereal. There was nothing  _ other _ than being one of God’s children, basking in Her light. That was, of course, until Lucifer took the first plunge. The other angels, especially those of the archangel variety, watched in something between awe and shocked horror as Lucifer plummeted below. They’d always seen him as a little conceited, a little full of himself, but never enough to directly go against Her. It was even worse, considering none of the archangels had ever considered disobeying as an option. It’s hard to recognize the possibility of things that didn’t yet exist.

Raphael watched as Lucifer fell and thought to himself, “That could be me.” The idea that the first fallen angel would be an archangel, rather than some lower variety scorned by their station… it didn’t sit right. Like a pit in his metaphorical stomach. This was before most angels had chosen corporeal forms, of course. God had encouraged them to find a form that fit them, so she would have a reference point for her Humans, divined in Her image.

God had an image. She had a Human form, but it changed frequently, as the body couldn’t contain her magnitude. Most of the time, She was the wind. Her voice echoed in many tones, neither high nor low. It lacked neutrality, as well as any softness, roughness, sharpness, or soothe. She simply was. As Raphael considered it, he wondered if she even had a voice at all. She almost sounded like if the voice in one’s head took form. It might have sounded like a voice, but it was somehow impossible to actually  _ hear _ . It implanted itself into the mind, a message, with little actual sound.

She called Raphael to Her throne. She was present. He could sense Her, feel the warmth of Her light, Her love, but She was not corporeal. 

He  _ was.  _ He was still working on his image, trying to get it right. All he’d really settled on for certain was the red hair. At the moment, it was long, but light. Not weighed down heavily. Feathery, loose curls that hung about his head and almost seemed to float when he would turn it too fast. His eyes were a warm, deep golden. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lighten them or not yet. He figured he’d get used to his form first. It was neither fat, nor thin, tall, nor short. It just… was. He could alter it later. He’d spent the most time determining his wings. Gabriel, Michael, and Lucifer had really gone all out with theirs. Bright, gem-stone colors: blue, green, and red respectively. They shone, shimmered, caught the light of the heavens when they soared. Lesser angels wore more muted tones. Raphael’s own wings were multi-toned but warm. They were a pale, cream sort of color towards their base, then grew a deeper copper towards the tips. They were more refined than the others, but he felt they suited him.

_ I have a task for you. _ God’s “voice” broke through his thoughts.

A task. He’d already been given tasks. He’d built the heavens, constructed the stars, and some of the animals, though they were still nameless. They just had shapes. Forms. “Of course,” he nodded. “What do you need of me?”

_ Once the Garden is finished, I have a role for you. _ She said. Raphael knew of the Garden. The Ultimate Paradise. It was the place in which human life would exist, uninterrupted. A small segment of the vast world that had been built.  _ I will create man. He will be named Adam, and he must not eat of one tree. It would only bring suffering and pain to him and his descendants. _

Raphael nodded slowly. He didn’t question what the purpose of the tree was, if they weren’t to eat from it. Decoration?

_ I will only tell Adam once of this rule. Should he be tempted, I would have you remind him. _

“Remind him,” Raphael repeated slowly, “Alright. Yes, I can do that.”

_ You are their healer, Raphael. Now that Lucifer has fallen, we must be wary. The humans must be protected. _

Yes. Of course, that made sense. Maybe the Tree was something of Lucifer’s addition that God found useful, but was wary of. Maybe She wasn’t sure what would happen, and after he’d fallen… No, but She was all-knowing. There was no way she didn’t know what it did.

“What happens,” Raphael began slowly. “If Adam eats the fruit?”

_ Suffering. _

“Yes, well. You said that. I mean… what Knowledge does it provide?”

God paused. Raphael felt Her slowly shift around the room, as though pondering Her response.  _ The Humans will only know the pleasures of life. The positives. The Garden will protect them from anything else. If they were to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, they would become aware of life outside Eden. _

“But there is no life outside Eden,” Raphael pressed. “Thought that was the point.”

_ There is no Human life outside of Eden. Animals and sickness and strife live there. Lucifer has already tasked himself with creating hardship. He cannot reach inside the walls of Eden. War, Pestilence, Death, and Famine only exist outside its walls. _

“I see,” Raphael nodded. “I can make sure that Adam doesn’t eat the fruit.”

_ Thank you, Raphael. _

He felt a warm burst, a wave towards him, like love. It bundled in his chest, and distantly, he felt himself smile. He was dismissed, and he returned to his other duties, mainly, finishing up some animals. 

\---

 

God began building the world one day at a time. Starting with darkness, then light, and so on and so forth. Raphael was having trouble finishing up this last animal. A scaley, long beast with slitted eyes and nostrils. It had these four, rather stumpy legs, but they seemed like they might not belong there. He couldn’t figure the proportions quite right. Either way, it gave him plenty of time to think.

He knew, eventually, once man existed, he would have to keep an eye on them. He was their healer. He planned to watch over them from a bit of distance, just so they wouldn’t notice another Humanoid figure wandering around their Garden and think, “Well who’s that then?” Maybe from the Gates.

“Why  _ are _ there Gates?” Raphael muttered to himself as he attempted to shorten the beast’s tail. No that didn’t look right either. He stretched it back out. “What’s the point of Gates if they’re not meant to go out?”

He shook his head. God had said Her Plan was ineffable. Of course, that didn’t mean it was unquestionable, it just meant it couldn’t be described. Which also made it quite oxymoronic, didn’t it? He’d found himself questioning quite a bit while he worked, though he figured maybe his frustration towards this particular beast was causing his existential line of thinking. Still, that didn’t stop him from thinking it.

“And if Lucifer can’t reach inside of the Garden, then why not put the Tree of Knowledge  _ outside _ ?” he grumbled. “Or on the moon…” Part of his mind kept trying to quiet his questioning. Her Plan is ineffable, it said. There’s no reason to question it. 

But what could the Humans even do inside the Garden? There was little progress to be made within such a closed space, and Raphael doubted they were meant just to be… observed. Weren’t the Humans supposed to live? To truly live? After a bit of time, of course, they would become bored with Eden. Or could they? Could they realize what a dull, repetitive life they lived without Knowledge? The angels hadn’t realized the dilemma of morality even existed until Lucifer fell, so how could the humans without divine intervention? It wouldn’t be a proper way to live. 

What was the point of existence without choice? Without choice, there could be no negative, and without negative, it was impossible to reach a new high. They existed on a repeating, neutral plane. It couldn’t be what She intended for Her chosen creations could it? 

“Could She really want that?” he muttered, mostly at the little creature in his hands. It still wasn’t quite right, especially the way it crawled-

The ground seemed to open up below him and light, fluffy ground that had once been solid below him no longer supported his weight. He dropped the animal and attempted to unfurl his wings, but they felt caught, trapped. He grasped desperately towards the heavens, though they were far out of reach by then. With an undignified cry and the wind tearing apart his wings, his hair-

Raphael fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by a fic by jamestkirk  
> obsessed with the raphaelcrowley au/headcanon so here's my take  
> pls enjoy


	2. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly exists. At the beginning of time, so much remains beyond description. He simply is.

The Fallen awoke near a pool, dark and speckled with newly-made flora and fauna. Its surface wasn’t clear, but dark and reflective. He had landed on his back and as breath thudded into him once more, he was  _ sore.  _ He’d never been sore before. Come to think of it, he’s never  _ been _ before. This form was new, stripped of light and happiness. He felt hollow, and he couldn’t remember much of who he’d been. All he knew that he fell. 

Sounds were muffled. He didn’t realize, until he attempted to roll over, and his own groan sounded distant, as if underwater. Eyes adjusted slowly. He could almost feel them dilate. He clawed his way towards the pool, hoping to find some solace in the water. A deep, thunderous sound reverberated through his being. A presence, a voice he recognized as Lucifer’s, but still muffled from the fall. He only caught bits and pieces. “Look at you…….. Crawly….there. Brother.”

The Fallen squinted, looking back at the figure who’d just dubbed him ‘Brother’. “What’d you call me?” He attempted to say, but it was slurred and didn’t sound right to his own ears. His voice must have changed. “Crawly?”

Lucifer was huge now. He was larger before, but not  _ that _ big. He was horned and dark and red and light and cruel and welcoming all at once. He laid a hand on the Fallen’s shoulder, and his hearing cleared with a sharp, painful  _ POP _ . “I said,” he tilted his head. Satan’s appearance was impossible to describe. It was beyond words. Ineffable. “Look at you.  _ Crawling _ across the ground there.” There was a gravelly, sickening rumble that the Fallen recognized as a chuckle. “But you can be Crawly if you like.”

“I’m not sure if I do,” the Fallen, now Crawly grumbled. He continued his desperate crawl towards the pool, receiving no assistance from the King of Hell. He managed to wriggle to the side and peer over into the water. His own appearance was describable, unfortunately so. He couldn’t remember what he’d looked like before, but he felt like all of his grace had been stripped away. His hair was this rich, deep red, fiery and potent in color. Heavy, looser curls made it hang long around his shoulders. He was thin, with defined, high cheekbones. A sharp, hawkish nose, and a strong chin. His eyes were yellow. Violently so. With vertical slots. There was little dimension, just the angry yellow that seemed to glow in the low light of Hell. The pupils dilated slightly, going a bit rounder, but then returned to the thin black gash.

A drop of water hit the pool and ripples expanded from the spot. He jerked back, looking up for the source of the water. It was only after he felt the streak of dampness on his cheek that he realized he was crying. Nobody had ever cried before. There wasn’t a precedent. 

“Don’t be soft,” Lucifer said. His tone implied he rolled his eyes, but when Crawly looked back at Lucifer, he realized he didn’t  _ have  _ eyes. Not really. He didn’t have anything that resembled features. He had a form with no discernible shape, but it  _ was _ a solid, corporeal form. Crawly just didn’t have the words to describe it. They hadn’t been thought up yet. “You Fell. You’re mine now. You’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t  _ mean _ to fall,” Crawly said, voice feeling small and pathetic, especially next to Lucifer, who not as much fallen as dramatically swan-dived to the Earth below. He’d made quick work of setting up a domain, and it was everything heaven hadn’t been. Arid and humid, frigid and boiling all at once, it was putrid and had a low ceiling. Flying down there would be impossible, and the act was forbidden on Earth-

His wings. Crawly panicked, unfurling the feathers as quickly as his aching body would let him. 

“You were on your way down for a while, Brother,” Lucifer shrugged, or at least may have. He had too many limbs for it to be clear. It wasn’t really obvious where his shoulders were, if he possessed them. He was pointedly ignoring Crawly at that point, gliding around him in a slow arc. He was imitating some form of pacing. “It was a slower descent. You more of… sauntered vaguely downwards.”

“Sauntered vaguely downwards,” Crawly repeated with a scoff. He couldn’t remember ever having scoffed before, but he couldn’t remember a lot of life before. So maybe he had. Maybe he’d scoffed just before he fell. No, that didn’t sound right. But then again, nothing really did. His wings stretched out behind him, battered and torn. He could make out the flesh underneath, the part he’d never seen before beneath the feathers. They’d almost all been ripped clean, and the flesh was bruised, torn.

Lucifer clicked his tongue or made some sort of pitying, “tsk” sound. He had pity and pride in his not-eyes as he laid a long-clawed hand on the arch of Crawly’s wing. Slowly, the feathers regrew, but they were sharper than before. Rougher, with a more solid finish. And they were near black. Not quite. They had this slight tinge of brown to them, but they were dark and felt so wrong. Lucifer leaned back and marveled at his dusky handiwork, folding one set of limbs across his chest like someone might cross their arms. Crawly nodded, but not in thanks. He felt on the verge of tears again, but something stopped him. Maybe the fear of being called soft again. That felt wrong. He might have been soft before, but somehow, he felt he’d never be soft again.

Slowly, he retracted his wings back into his still-aching corporeal form. Everything felt empty but simultaneously buzzed with numbness. 

Lucifer clicked his tongue again, though his mouth didn’t really move when he spoke. “I have a job for you,” said the King of Hell.

Crawly knew he’d heard that before. It was the only thing he remembered for certain. With a sigh, he replied, “What would you have me do?”

  
  


\---

  
  


Crawly was spiteful. He was seething just a little bit, but in the form he was currently inhabiting, that manifested in a high hiss. He knew he’d made whatever this creature was, and it felt… unfinished. The legs were stubbly, scrabbling across the newly formed earth. It was lush with greenery, generally difficult to navigate. And he didn’t know where he was going.

 

“Go to the Garden,” he hissed, mocking Lucifer’s voice to the best of his ability. He couldn’t manage his gravel or depth, but he wasn’t really going for accuracy. “Find a way to get  _ them _ out.”

Lucifer always spoke of the Humans with a sneer, like he was so much above them. Crawly couldn’t understand that really, seeing as they were made in their image. Well, maybe not  _ Lucifer’s _ image. He’d never quite looked right. Limbs too long and too sharp to be appealing. Teeth too white and eyes too dark. He’d always been a bit monstrous. He was bound to fall.

Crawly maneuvered through the brush, scuttling across branches until he made it high enough to see the Garden. He could see the tree, almost centered in Eden. Tall, full, proud, it bore one fruit, but had the beginnings of more.

“Well now that’s not  _ fair _ ,” Crawly hummed, making his way towards the tree. He wasn’t really sure if the Humans would be able to hear him. There was no way to know for sure. Adam was the only one right now, and God had given him a task. 

_ The animals are yours to name. _ She’d said as though it was something welcoming, but it was more of a command. Crawly recognized that tone of non-voice. He didn’t see Her in whatever form She had taken, but Her voice was impossible not to feel when She’d briefly entered the garden.

Crawly met the base of the tree, halted only by Adam pointing a finger at him, an unnamed creature. “Serpent,” Adam declared, and Crawly felt it become him, as though it was etched into him. He was a Serpent now, the Serpent of Eden, and he always would be.

When Adam fell asleep that night, God returned, bursting from Her corporeal form to remove one of the man’s ribs. From the rib, his Eve was born, and she was beautiful and naïve. Even more so than Adam himself. But Adam’s naïveté bordered on sheer lack of intelligence, while Eve’s was inquisitive. Somewhere in there, she wished to learn. The day whiled away, and Adam and Eve named the animals.

Time passed, and all the animals bore names. More time passed, and Adam and Eve began to know one another better. Biblically. As time passed, Crawly watched, the quiet Serpent in the tree. Neither of the Humans had even approached the Forbidden Fruit, and he expected they wouldn’t any time soon without prompting. 

_ Suffering _ . He felt the word in his mind. That’s what would happen if they were to eat the fruit. But technically, God hadn’t told  _ Eve _ not to eat the fruit. She’d only told Adam. Just once. But Eve was a different story. Crawly didn’t really  _ want _ the Humans to suffer. They seemed happy enough in Eden, but he knew Lucifer. And Lucifer would find a way to make them suffer regardless. And suffering would be made worse without understanding. Without Knowledge. 

Crawly partially dangled from the tree, long neck stretching towards Eve. She lounged in the shade of a neighboring tree, behaving as though she’d never even noticed the shiny red fruit of the Forbidden Tree. He wouldn’t  _ make  _ her eat it. He sure as Hell- sure as Heaven?- wouldn’t make Adam even look at it. But he could tempt. All he had to do was plant the seed, from there, it would be her choice. She was the one who would choose to eat the apple. She would choose to offer it to Adam. He would choose to take a bite. 

_ God  _ chose to kick them out of the carefully constructed paradise forever, but only after stripping the legs from Crawly’s serpentine body. Before he had fully made it out of Eden, Adam looked to the reptile with disdain, lip curled up, and declared, “Snake.”

 

—-

  
  


His humanoid form was much more comfortable, but it felt wrong now, changed after his time as the Serpent. Snake. His eyes were still the same, serpentine and sharp, but his voice was different. It dragged out s’s unnaturally and had a sharpness to it. His tongue was forked. He sighed, realizing that he really  _ would  _ always be what Adam declared him to be, the Serpent of Eden.

Crawly stretched his wings in the light of the sun. It almost was heavenly feeling, warm and familiar. He wondered distantly who had hung the star closest to the Earth. Who had dotted the rest of the lights in the heavens? But the thought faded as he found himself wandering the walls of Eden. 

An angel stood watch over one of the Gates. He figured an angel stood watch over  _ all _ of the Gates, but he just happened to be approaching one. The East Gate Angel, a Principality who had once wielded a flaming sword, as all the Principalities guarding the gate had. It was to keep Adam and Eve in, and to keep whatever Lucifer concocted out. This Principality was about the same height as Crawly himself, but much softer. Easy to look at, with feathery, pale blonde hair that seemed to float up towards the heavens. It was visibly soft, unintentionally mussed up, but of course, style hadn’t been invented yet. So it was simply hair. He wasn’t necessarily stern looking, just focused, watching as Adam and Eve left the Garden. His eyes were brown. A darker, duller brown, maybe with flecks of green in it. Crawly couldn’t tell, it was just a quick glance. But he settled at the angel’s side.

“Bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?” Crawly found himself mumbling to the angel. “Firsssst offense and everything, and they’re out. I don’t see what’sss so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.”

“Well you wouldn’t, would you?” The Principality ruffled slightly. “It  _ must  _ be bad…” he paused, and at first Crawly assumed he was pausing to imply something.  _ Because you’re a demon and you can only do bad _ . That’s what Crawly heard, at first, but then he realized he was supposed to fill the space. He was supposed to offer up his name.

“Crawly,” he supplied, but it still didn’t fit right. He decided he’d play around with it. Change it if he needed to. There was shame in it. The implication of being subservient and the origin of the name itself both left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Crawly,” the angel repeats. “It must have been bad, or else you wouldn’t have done it.”

Right. There it was. But there was a hint of doubt in the angel’s tone, like that might not have been true. But he seemed to frightened to ask any questions about it, to even consider delving into the demon’s mind.

“I hardly did anything. The fact it was sitting right there in plain view did most of the work,” Crawly said. “Makes you think. Why did the Almighty,” he added a sarcastic flare to the last word, “Put it there? Why not somewhere they couldn’t reach? Like the top of a mountain?”

“Or the moon?” the angel chuckled, but then almost instantly steeled himself. “No. Best not to… dwell on it. Can’t question ineffability.”

Crawly wanted to laugh at that. Wanted to ask where that was in the definition of ineffable, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something sitting in his chest, something that prevented him from commenting. It twisted at a wound he hadn’t realized was there. 

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” He said instead, changing the subject.

“Uh,” the angel replied helpfully, the beginnings of a blush rising in his cheeks.

“You did. It was flaming like anything,” Crawly needled, “What happened to it?”

“I uh,” the angel began.  _ Lost it _ , Crawly’s mind supplied, but the angel’s answer didn’t match. “Gaveitaway.”

“You  _ what? _ ” Crawly laughed. It was small, soundless, and mostly in his eyes as they grew wide with shock and mirth, but it was there. 

“I gave it away!” the angel repeated, emphatically, but his eyebrows jumped in worry, shoulders bunched with tension. Oh, the poor angel was worried he’d done the wrong thing. He rambled, “They were sent out there with nothing, into the cold, harsh world, and she’s expecting  _ already. _ ” He was beyond exasperated. “Oh, I do hope it wasn’t the wrong thing to do.”

Crawly watched as the angel returned his focus to Adam and Eve, retreating into the distance. The sword would provide warmth, keep them safe. It would be their light in the darkness. What the angel had meant wasn’t “Did I do something  _ your _ side would have wanted”, it was “Did I do something  _ my _ side didn’t.”

“Well, you’re an angel, aren’t you?” Crawly tried to keep his tone flippant. Couldn’t let the angel know how completely and utterly  _ impressed _ he was. He spent so much time pondering over the right and wrong decisions he probably wouldn’t have even thought to make a choice like that. The angel didn’t even seem to think about it in the moment, just over-thought the consequences later. “I don’t know that it’s posssssible for you to  _ do _ the wrong thing.”

The tension released from the angel’s shoulders. “Oh. Right, of course.” He turned his face towards Crawly again. “Thank you, it really  _ had _ been bothering me.”

“But wouldn’t it be funny,” Crawly posited, “If you’d done the bad thing. And I’d done the good?”

“I think not,” the angel said, losing the humor in his tone. That air of unease was beginning to return.

Dark clouds rolled in the distance, and the sky opened up to rain. Crawly wasn’t sure if it would be holy water or not. Maybe, the first rain would be blessed? Before he could even think of moving for cover, the angel raised one of his wings for Crawly to duck under. He hadn’t really looked at the Angel’s wings yet. They were without a doubt softer than his own, light, but not white. They had a bit of a warm undertone, something peachy, maybe cream? It was hard to tell in the harsh glare of the newly-clouded sun. He leaned closer to the angel’s side, not touching, but close. Somehow, the proximity felt natural. Welcomed. He couldn’t quite place the feeling.

“I’m Aziraphael,” the angel offered quietly. “By the way.”

“‘S got five sssyllables,” Crawly commented under his breath. “Quite the name.”

Aziraphael shrugged, “Is it too much? I might have to change it-“

“Oh, well that’s up to you. I’ll be changing mine,” Crawly said.

“I think I will. It’s a bit too much like that archangel,” Aziraphael said. “Don’t want him thinking I’m up to anything.”

“Can you? Be up to anything, I mean,” Crawly felt himself smile wryly. “By definition, of course-“

“I’m not sure. And nobody’s seen Raphael for a while. They figure he’s out building more galaxies. Oh, he loves the stars, that one.”

Crawly hummed, nodding slightly. That sounded plausible, especially considering the only archangel he knew of was Lucifer. He was caught up in his projects too, however different they sounded from Raphael’s.

“You’ve got a snake etched into your face, you know,” Aziraphael said slowly. 

“A what?” Crawly furrowed his brow.

“Just by your ear,” Aziraphael tutted. “Doesn’t look bad. Just thought you should know.”

Crawly reached up and felt the bit of skin just below his sideburns, and there it was. It was slightly raised, but not enough to be garish. Just enough to feel when his fingers brushed across it. Whenever he had the chance, he needed to look at it, to see how much it marred his appearance. He needed to examine the rest of the changes made by his new, serpentine status as well. 

For the time being though, he was willing to wait and watch as Adam and Eve wandered away from Eden. He was safe under the angel’s wing, sheltered from the oncoming storm. It seemed to Crawly that the angel must enjoy helping others. The flaming sword to Adam and Eve, the protective wing over Crawly’s head… It felt warm and affectionate, and so  _ right _ , but again, Crawly couldn’t quite place how. 

He pushed it aside in his mind. It seemed like a problem for a later time. A time far distant to the world’s first rain, the banishment from Eden, and the first meeting between angel and demon. He took shelter, pressing as close to the angel as he could allow himself without seeming odd, and tried to pretend it didn’t bother him that the angel was still drenched in the downpour. But the angel didn’t seem to mind, or if he did, he didn’t let it on. 

And so  _ Crawly _ chose to be selfish, and reveled in the comfort of the space beneath Aziraphael’s wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about Aziraphale's name is based on something I read about how the original pronunciation was meant to be Azz-ear-aff-ae-el. Pentasyllabic and reminiscent of Raphael's name himself. What I read was basically that Terry Pratchett thought it would be that first, but ultimately he and Neil Gaiman changed it to the Aziraphale we know and love. I wanted to kind of invoke that here.  
> I'm planning on keeping this fic rather short. Maybe four or five chapters that span a good deal of time, but it may stretch on longer than intended, knowing me.


	3. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale spends some time on Earth, and can't see the harm in just a little bit of human indulgence.

Not much about the angel changed, besides the spelling and pronunciation of his name. He’d changed it to simply  _ Aziraphale _ not long after he was pulled away from Eden. He preferred it. Carving off that extra syllable really made it suit him, or so he thought. And Aziraphale thought quite a lot. He had quite a lot of time in which to think.

That was the thing about being an angel. Endless time. As a Principality, he was one of the middling-to-lower tiers of angels. He had importance, but not enough to be constantly fluttering around Heaven. He’d been given two tasks in his memory of being an angel, but the two weren’t really that different. The first had been only just after he began to exist. He couldn’t really remember coming into being, he just was. But he figured that’s how everything happened. It wasn’t, and then it was. All part of Her Plan. He existed as a faint, pale light, and the first thing he remembered was emptiness. Then, there was Her love, and he felt somewhat whole. 

_ I have a task for you.  _ She had imparted upon him, even before he’d been gifted a name. He didn’t have to ask what it was. As soon as he pondered it,  _ Aziraphael _ was given to him. She continued,  _ Guard the Eastern Gate. Take this sword. _

He took the sword, and promptly gave the sword away. Then, he met the demon Crawly, who took shelter under his wing. He couldn’t figure out quite why he had given the sword away, or why he’d chosen to protect Crawly. It was just a feeling, an impulse that compelled him to act. Ineffable, one might say. He then became Aziraphale and was given his second command.

_ Remain on Earth, _ God commanded.  _ The Humans will need someone to watch them. Someone to walk among them. _

Aziraphale hadn’t heard of an angel walking among men, but then again, the world was rather fresh, and there were likely a number of things he hadn’t heard of that he would quickly become aware of. Still, Aziraphale never considered himself one to question, and returned to earth to observe. After all, on Earth, there was food.

Aziraphale didn’t really interact with other angels that often, given that they rarely came below, and he rarely returned to Heaven. The few and far-between times he’d had the opportunity to speak with other angels, however, he felt a little out of place. They blamed it on his time on earth, his slow integration into human culture. The other angels didn’t understand why he ate, why he made such an effort when it came to human interaction. Aziraphale never really had the time to explain that it was helpful. It was easier to watch the people if he seemed like one of the people if he could empathize and understand their struggles. He couldn’t do that by watching from afar. And after all, there was nothing wrong with indulging a little. 

Without the presence of other angels, as time passed, the only being he found even remotely like himself was that demon. The Serpent of Eden, the one from the wall. He too walked the Earth, but Aziraphale had a slight feeling that had more to do with defying Satan than it did with following orders and causing mischief.

They met a second time as Noah built the Ark. He watched on amongst a smaller group of humans as animals were herded onto the Ark in preparation for the flood. That was when Crawly appeared at his side. There was no real greeting, just a slight nod of recognition before Crawly began asking for clarification as to what was going on.

“And the rest will just…  _ drown? _ ” Crawly asked, upper lip curling slightly in disgust.

Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to speak words, just flattening his lips and nodding.

A small group of children ran past, happy and carefree. Crawly turned back to Aziraphale harshly, “Not the children. You can’t drown children.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, biting down on his lips slightly and continued to nod, but more harshly this time. Again, he couldn’t speak. It wasn’t his place to question Her Plan, as much as he silently disagreed with this particular turn of events. There were words unspoken, questions unasked, but Crawly seethed.

“What’s the point of making them just to kill almost all of them? Seems wrong. Got to be wrong. Not the children,” he hissed a bit, and Aziraphale noticed he didn’t do that as much in his speech anymore, it was just his tone. His tongue looked more human, less forked, but the eyes were still those of a snake. Aziraphale thought they were quite remarkable. He’d seen distinctive eyes before. Briefly, he’d met Gabriel, whose eyes were a sharp violet, but these were different. A yellow stripped of any dimension or true warmth. But the pupils reacted like a snake’s might, widening with interest and emotion. He couldn’t help but wonder what the demon’s vision was like.

As the crowd dispersed, Crawly remained. “You can’t seriously think this is a good idea, angel. It doesn’t make sense-”

“Crawly,” Aziraphale released a long-weary sigh, “It’s not my place to question. If it’s within Her Plan-”

“What’s the technicality?” Crawly asked quickly.

“Pardon?” Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow slightly.

“Who’s allowed on the ship again?”

“It’s an  _ Ark _ ,” Aziraphale corrected.

“It’s a big boat. Who’s allowed on?”

Aziraphale sighed again, “Noah tried to warn the people, but they wouldn’t listen. So just Noah, and his family.”

“How much of his family?”

“Oh, Crawly, I don’t  _ know _ ,” Aziraphale said, exasperated. “You must know how She speaks, you’d remember from before you fell-”

“No I don’t,” Crawly said, but it wasn’t flippant or aggressive, it was just passive and quick, to pass onto his next thought. “They’re all related.”

Aziraphale scoffed, “Crawly, dear, I think you might not understand-”

“Every human person is descendant of Adam and Eve, yeah?” Crawly pressed on. “They’re all related. They’re all family.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, caught up a bit in the technicality before quietly continuing, “What are you getting at?”

“So it technically wouldn’t be wrong of you,” Crawly began, leaning just slightly closer to Aziraphale, “To help me sneak some kids on the boat.”

“The Ark.”

“Why does it matter what kind of-” Crawly groaned, rocking away from Aziraphale for a moment. The angel noticed that Crawly’s hair had grown a bit longer, thick, loose curls now further down his back. He rather liked the look of it. Aziraphale had never really considered letting his appearance change much. He looked almost exactly the same as he had when they’d first met. “If I call it an Ark, will you help me?”

“What’s your goal?” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Way I see it,” Crawly said. “We’d be operating in kind of a grey area. You’re saving the kids, technically within the rules. I’m allowing these people that are also technically _not_ Noah’s family onto the Ark. All in all, we’re saving lives, angel.”

Saving lives. That sounded good to Aziraphale. Of course, Crawly was meant to tempt. It was his job, as a demon, to tempt people away from Heaven’s light. But no, Crawly was using the technicality to justify his own actions as well, and there was something close to panic in his eyes when he spoke of the children dying. No, he must truly care about the people and their wellbeing. That was… _odd_ for a demon. It was something he would have to ponder at a later date.

“Just the children,” Aziraphale said softly. “The parents would draw too much attention. They’re already… the children can be  _ saved _ .”

Crawly nodded. He had this face that was fixed in something of a permanent frown. A strong brow, and lips that naturally seemed to curl downwards. Or maybe it was just his constant slight grimace against the sun. He had the urge to shield him against the sunlight, but he couldn’t bring out his wings this time. That would be too obvious. And anyway, he needed more time to focus on the  _ how _ of their plan.

By nightfall, Crawly and Aziraphale had concocted a plan. Or rather, Aziraphale proposed a plan and Crawly nodded along in agreement after admitting he “hadn’t really thought of anything after convincing you to help.” So, the plan was almost entirely of Aziraphale’s creation, but he took a little comfort in the fact that the original  _ idea _ was Crawly’s.

“I can get them onto the Ark,” Aziraphale said. “The issue will be keeping them hidden. They’ll have to be with the animals, and we will need someone aboard the ship to keep an eye on them. And I’m sure Noah wouldn’t want to go against…” he paused. “You could do it.”

“How am I going to sneak onto the ship?” Crawly scoffed slightly.

“Who would notice an extra snake amongst all those other animals,” Aziraphale shrugged.

Crawly blinked at him before a smug sort of smile grew on his face, “Now  _ angel _ , that’s almost mischievous.”

Aziraphale felt himself flush slightly. He’d always been quick to blush, figured it was something about being an angel, being inherently honest and truthful. He wore his emotions on his face, but then again, so did Crawly. Maybe that was the little bit of angel left in him. Only Crawly’s emotions were all in his eyes. “No, no,” he said, attempting and failing to suppress a smile, “I don’t believe I can do mischief.”

“Ah yes,” Crawly grinned. His smile was sharp, but endearing. Aziraphale could still feel his own blush. “And here we are. Me doing good. You doing mischief-”

“No, dear,” Aziraphale said with a slight chuckle. He could tell the demon was just trying to get under his skin. “I’m afraid you’ve got us switched around.”

Soon enough, night had fallen, and Aziraphale was participating in the first known occurrence of smuggling. The parents would be dead by morning, so he figured they wouldn’t exactly have time to miss them. He knew it was morbid, it was negative, but it was true. He muttered small explanations to them, and they joined him, partially out of fear of dying, partially because they really wanted to see what it was like on the inside of the Ark. Aziraphale led them to a rather distinct looking snake with yellow eyes and dark, shimmering scales.

“Follow the snake,” he directed them, and they followed with awe into the back of the Ark.

In the morning, it stormed and stormed and stormed. Aziraphale returned to heaven to observe as the arc sailed over the water-logged Earth. Well, he thought, it didn’t do much actual sailing. It was a large chunk of wood that he considered lucky to be floating, but that could have been Her Grace, rather than actual seaworthiness. Still, they rocked through the storm, and eventually found land as the Earth dried.

When they emptied the Ark’s hold, children rushed out, happy and carefree. Noah and his family were aghast and said something along the lines of, “Where the hell did all these kids come from?” As the rest of the animals exited the Ark, a snake slithered out, not following the crowd. He disappeared from Aziraphale’s view. The children told tales of being led to the Ark by an angel, and then there was a snake that could turn into a man. They called him an angel too. The two angels who saved them. Aziraphale chuckled a bit at that, at the idea of Crawly being called an angel. Noah and his family didn’t believe them, of course.

God decided never to do _that_ again, called it a Covenant. And while the other angels may have been unaware of what Aziraphale and Crawly had done, God saw all. In the back of his mind, Aziraphale was aware that She knew. But that was a problem for another time.

 

\----

 

They met again, mostly in passing. Evidently, they frequented the same locations, but for different reasons. Aziraphale frequented inns to eat and enjoy idle conversation. Crawly frequented inns so he could sleep, something that Aziraphale didn’t fully understand the point of.  “You have the ability to be awake at all hours, experiencing life without interruption. To it’s fullest,” Aziraphale said, confused.

“Yeah,” Crawly nodded. “But I  _ like _ sleeping. It’s  _ nice.” _

“It’s nice?” Aziraphale said, almost taking on a teasing tone.

“Well, why do you eat?” Crawly said. “You don’t need to.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips before replying, “It’s nice.”

“Exactly. Now good night!” the demon smiled, waved, and left for bed.

Most of their conversations were like that. Short, in passing. They were familiar with each other, comfortable in each other’s company. It was a new sensation, but not one that Aziraphale was necessarily unhappy with. The only issue was that Heaven might have a few choice words about his close relationship with a demon. But then again, nobody had seemed to notice so far, so what was the harm in indulging?

Together, they dined and talked, and got a little too accustomed to being able to perform miracles around each other in ease. There was no fear of being caught. Just subtle miracles, fixing and changing the little things that ailed them. There were a couple of cases in which this caused issues, however. Occasionally, the two would have two very similar ideas of what should happen and when, and then they couldn’t realize who had performed the miracle. Their reasons for performing the miracles were always fundamentally different, however. 

Like in the case of a blind man, who suddenly regained the ability to see. They’d both happened to touch him right around the same time, and they couldn’t decide who’d  _ really _ done it.

“Oh, well I just was thinking how his quality of life would improve,” Aziraphale had tried to rationalize.

“He kept bumping into things,” Crawly hissed. “Thought if he could see, he wouldn’t do that.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Crawly was lying. In the time they’d spent together, he realized that Crawly only really hissed under a handful of situations, most of them centered around his own discomfort. He hissed when he was angry, in disbelief, or offended. And he hissed when he lied. It was his most obvious tell, and made him a rather poor liar, which Aziraphale found curious, given he was a demon and all. Unless Aziraphale had completely misread the situation, he was sure that Crawly was lying, and truly wished the man to see. Maybe he’d taken pity on him. Maybe it was just a fleeting thought. Either way, the man could see, and Aziraphale was rather certain Crawly had done it, not himself. 

That was something else he’d noticed about Crawly. He was  _ nice _ . The demon cared about the Humans, as much as he tried to pretend he didn’t. He seemed invested in their well-being. Of course, he caused mischief as well, but it was never anything severe. He tempted, as demons do, and let the humans do the rest themselves. Crawly had explained once that it was more fun that way, but Aziraphale had seen the look on his face sometimes. Sometimes, Crawly was appalled by what humankind was capable of with a little push.

Like in the case of Jesus Christ. Aziraphale and Crawly watched on in silent, pained awe as they nailed the Son of God to the cross.They’d been aware of Jesus, having met up once around the time of his birth.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen Gabriel since before,” Crawly had joked. “Just as much of a wanker as I remember.”

Aziraphale, scandalized, had breathed, “Crawly, dear-”

“He is! But you don’t have to say you agree. I know you’d agree-”

“I don’t believe I could ever call someone a…” Aziraphale paused, shaking his head. “You knew the Archangel Gabriel?”

“Knew the lot of ‘em,” Crawly had nodded. “I believe.”

“All of them?” Aziraphale mused, eyebrows raising slightly. “Even Raphael? Nobody’s seen him since before the Beginning! They say he’s off working on some independent project She asked him to do.”

Crawly had paused. It was extended, and punctuated with a low, gravelly sort of noise. The noise slowly turned into the word, “Uh,” and he continued, “Now that I think about it, I don’t remember Raphael much. I remember… his wings, I think. They were light, sort of like yours-”

“But dark at the ends,” Aziraphale muttered distantly. He couldn’t figure out where that piece of information had come from. He hadn’t been aware of it before that moment, but then, he  _ knew _ it was true. 

Crawly just looked at him and nodded. They didn’t talk about the moment.

But when Jesus was crucified, the two were decidedly less amicable. It was the first fight they had, but nothing absurd. Much more of a spat than anything else.

They kept their distance as to not see the worst of it, but they knew what was happening. Somehow, they could almost feel it.

“Tell me you had nothing to do with this,” Aziraphale began the conversation dryly. 

Crawly looked at him, aghast. His eyes glinted in the sun, almost pained. Aziraphale instantly regretted having said it.

“Aziraphale, how could I?” he asked. In his recent memory, it was the first time Crawly had used his full name rather than the honorific, angel.

“Well someone on your side must have,” Aziraphale continued, despite himself, “And you’re the only one I’ve ever seen about.”

“I’m sure,” Crawly began, sniffing slightly and looking forward, away from Aziraphale, “That  _ someone _ on my side did something. Planted a little seed of doubt, but I don’t think they could have caused this alone. No… I think a lot of this was just the humans-”

“How could you say that?” Aziraphale snapped, but his voice didn’t raise in volume. It actually softened, like a warning.

“All they need is a nudge. You’ve seen what they’ve done. You know-”

“To imply that God’s perfect creations would be capable,” Aziraphale scoffed, “It’s… it’s-”

“Ineffable?” Crawly offered flatly.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Aziraphale warned.

“God’s  _ perfect creationsss _ ,” he hissed. Genuinely that time, “haven’t been perfect since they ate the apple. They’re not what She intended anymore, and She can’t control them all. They have choice. And sure, my side might have done a little pushing, but the humans are fully capable of terrible things all on their own-”

“It  _ had _ to be your side,” Aziraphale spat. It was the first time he ever felt venom in his voice. 

“Why can’t you just listen to reason, Aziraphale-”

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” Aziraphale almost yelled. He’d never done that before either. He’d never been part of an argument before. He’d just observed. How very human of him. “Your side must have interfered. This couldn’t be a part of Her Plan. This was… a mistake. An accident-”

“I don’t see any archangels intervening,” the demon seethed.

“Damn you, Crawly,” Aziraphale whispered, turning away from both the crucifixion and the aforementioned demon. He couldn’t bear to argue, especially not while the Son of God died. He needed to be away from it all. A moment to himself to gather his thoughts, contemplate his own reaction, put a lid on his anger. Crawly didn’t try to get the last word in, and Aziraphale fled.

 

\----

 

Three days later, Jesus rose, and they met again. It was an accidental crossing, and disbelief was written across both of their faces. 

“Have you heard anything from your side?” Aziraphale asked first, barely above a breath.

“They can’t believe it,” Crawly said. “Death’s particularly annoyed.”

“My side’s a little shaken as well,” Aziraphale began.

“Do you know what happened? Who did it?” Crawly asked, almost intrigued, but he kept his face flat. 

“I think She did,” Aziraphale’s voice felt distant even to his own ears. “That’s at least what they’re saying.”

“Ah,” Crawly nodded before adding, “Damn.”

Aziraphale nodded. He tried not to think about the fact that Her interference basically confirmed what Crawly had been saying those few days ago. It had been in Her Plan. He tried not to think about the implications of God letting her son be killed for, what? A symbol? As much as he tried, he couldn’t keep all of the thoughts at bay, and for the first time in his existence, Aziraphale doubted.

He shoved that down too, like the anger from a couple days prior. He couldn’t doubt. It wasn’t in him to do so. He wanted to blame it on Crawly’s influence, the constant questioning and hyper-critical nature. An outside influence, a temptation. He wondered if, by definition, he could be tempted. Of course, he must be able to, or else fallen angels wouldn’t exist. That thought paralyzed him though. A fallen angel? Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t last a minute in hell, even  _ with _ Crawly by his side. As far as he knew, their friendship was simply a fabrication in order to get him to fall, and once he was down there, the Serpent of Eden would be long gone.

There was a pit in his stomach, one he wasn’t quite used to. He quickly identified it as fear, but couldn’t manage to shove that particular feeling down. As if on cue, Crawly muttered, “It isn’t that bad, you know. Being damned.”

“Pardon me?” Aziraphale almost blubbered he was so taken aback.

“The other day,” Crawly jerked his head to indicate time. “You said ‘Damn you.’ It isn’t that bad.”

It left a sour taste in the angel’s mouth, and he muttered, “I really must be going.”

Aziraphale watched the slight twitch in Crawly’s brow, the confusion, the pain, but it was quickly masked. Still, while Aziraphale couldn’t read the emotion in most of his face, he could see it all in his eyes. “Alright, angel,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

\----

 

The two didn’t see each other again until Rome, and by then Crawly was Crowley. Crowley definitely seemed to suit him more. When he first saw him, Aziraphale found himself almost elated for some reason. Despite the drastic change in appearance, the recognition had been near instant. Crowley’s hair was cut short, flatter and curly, but still that fiery red. His eyes were partially hidden by small black sunglasses, still worn inside, and the snake tattoo on the side of his face seemed even more defined than it had been before. 

Aziraphale remained out of Crowley’s sight for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to strike up a conversation with the demon. It had been some time, and the demon hadn’t pursued him, hadn’t tried to tempt him, so maybe he’d been incredibly wrong about the friendship they might have had. Of course, Aziraphale didn’t  _ really _ consider it a friendship as much as an amiable, repetitive happening. They were just two immortal beings with mutual respect for each other that kept running into each other. Nothing more. But Aziraphale would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the demon’s company from time to time. And Aziraphale, being an angel, was a famously horrid liar.

He could always go about his business without bothering Crowley, who hadn’t seemed to notice him yet, or he could talk to him, attempt to rekindle a patchy, few and far-between relationship that had been missing from his life for a couple hundred years. With little thought, and a faint smile, he decided to approach the demon. After all, what was so wrong with a little indulgence?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter from Aziraphale's POV!  
> I know Crowley remained Crawly for a very long time, but to me, it makes the most sense if he changes his name in the gap between Biblical times and Rome.  
> These chapters are getting progressively longer, hopefully, that doesn't come back to bite me in the ass.  
> Thank you to everyone leaving kudos and comments it's really keeping me going and encouraging me to keep writing this!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Christ here I am writing self-indulgent fanfiction.  
> \- Each chapter will switch perspective between Crowley and Aziraphale, following the first chapter which is Raphael, obviously.  
> \- I don't wanna say too much in here and mess up the way I want this to go  
> \- Ultimately inspired by "and oh, my flawed heart" by jamestkirk, which I read this morning and fell in love with


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